I never look for relationships, they find me. When I look for a brief connection, I end up with love. Unrequited or returned, it waits in corners, ready to snap at me with soft, velvety phrases. Forever. Always. And it sneaks up on me, where eager discovery and avid talks suddenly bloom into a sweet but frustrating burst of "I love you" petals and "stay with me" stems. I know I'm lucky. I know I shouldn't complain. But it seems unfair to be suddenly roped into a long-lasting relationship. I know I could get out at any time, that I'm not literally "trapped", and this time I could do it without causing irreparable physical harm. Emotional damage is a foregone conclusion. To Me, to Him, to innocent bystanders.
And I don't want out. This is probably the healthiest, most promising relationship I've ever been in. I just feel the need to push against something, to stretch, to move. Staying in one place, one psyche too long makes me stir crazy. And I start too worry. Will one of us get bored if it's too quiet? Or get tired of dramatic fights first? And I begin to adapt, to mold myself. Imperceptibly, I subconsciously see what they need, and change or find a way to get what I want. And it usually ends badly.
No need to be defeatist. Maybe I'm just the kind of girl who seems like the kind of girl you bring home, but shouldn't be. And I can't relate to those sappy songs or those movies where we pine and we look for love. It finds me, unwilling and snarling, and tries to tame me time and again.
You, my love, are inevitable.
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Unhelpful quote of the day:
In Spanish: My librarian boss in Chile: "Where are you staying? In a house or in an apartment?" "Me quedo en una cama-una casa! una casa!" ("I'm staying in a bed-in a house! a house!")
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